


Useless

by pippinmctaggart



Series: Searching For A Home [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, Depression, Dialogue-Only, Drunken Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-31
Updated: 2004-10-31
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippinmctaggart/pseuds/pippinmctaggart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom and Billy can't seem to break this cycle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Useless

 

 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Dom.”

“Hey, Billy. How are you?”

“Busy. You know how it is.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know how it is. Not enough hours in the day, right?”

“Dom, I didn’t mean—“

“Yeah. Sure, Bill. So what are you busy with?”

“The play—you know, the one I told you about the last time I called.”

“I call you, too, Bill. You just never pick up your bloody phone.”

“Then why don’t you leave an effing message, Dom? How the hell am I supposed to know—“

“Right. Got it. I’ll leave a message the next time I want a bit of scintillating conversation.”

“Fuck you, Dom.”

 

 

“For fuck’s sake, _what?_ ”

“Lovely telephone manners, there, Bill.”

“Oh, Dom—sorry about that. Thought you were someone else.”

“Who?”

“No matter. I’m probably lucky you weren’t. How are you?”

“Oh, you know… Hey, look, I called you.”

“That you did. It’s good to hear from you, Dom. Really.”

“Yeah. Me too, Bills. Are you busy? Am I calling at a bad time—?”

“No, not at all. Just got in the door, so let me kick my shoes off…get out of my jacket…and sit on my lovely soft sofa for a bit of a natter. Gettin’ too old for this, Dom.”

“Not you, Bill. Peter Pan, you are.”

“Not quite, I’m afraid. So how are you, Dom? How’ve you been doing? I mean _really_ doing?”

“Can’t complain. Too much.”

“Where are you?”

“At the moment? Sitting outside a coffee shop watching Hollywood go by.”

“Why does it sound like that means more than just people-watching?”

“Dunno, Bills, why does it?”

“All right, I get the hint, I’ll leave that alone. I meant where are you staying these days? Are you still at Viggo’s? Or did you go back to Elijah’s?”

“Nah, Elwood’s got a girlfriend now, didn’t he tell you? I’d just be in the way of young love. Sweet, puppy-eyed, disgusting young love.”

“Don’t try and distract me with your bitter act. Where are you staying?”

“Persistent, aren’t you?”

“Have I ever been any other way?”

“You? No.”

“Dom.”

“Fine. I’m in a motel, all right? A bit of a dodgy one, because it suits my mood at the moment. I’m looking for an apartment.”

“An apartment? You’ve only been over there three months and you’ve forgotten what a flat is?”

“Blame ‘Lij for that one.”

“Sure. I’ve got no problem doing that. But a motel, Dom? Why not a decent hotel, somewhere they’ll look after you a bit?”

“Because I don’t need looking after, Billy! I just told you it suits my mood, didn’t I?”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“Oh, don’t you start too, Billy. Christ, I get enough of that here, don’t you start in on me too.”

“I’m not trying to start in on anything, you twat. It’s just…you’re my best mate, and I don’t know where you’re at right now.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“What does that mean?...Dom? Dom, are you there? _Dom?_...Shite.”

 

 

“Dom, where the fuck have you been?”

“Good morning to you, too, Bill. Do you have any idea what fucking time it is?”

“No, and I don’t particularly care. I’ve been trying to reach you for a week, where the hell have you been?”

“Not that it’s any of your bloody business, but—“

“Not my business? Oh, I like that. Here I am trying to ring you to check on you because I’m nearly out of my head worrying about you, because I have an offer for you, and apparently it’s none of my bloody business whether you’re tucked up in your bed or passed out on the floor of a shite motel room! You know what, Dom? Just go back to your sodding self-destruct mode, then, because I don’t bloody well know what to do anymore!”

“Billy—“

“Bugger off, Dom.”

 

 

“Yeah?”

“Billy. Billy. Is that you?”

“Dom.”

“I know it’s late—at least, I think ‘s late. ‘S it late, Bills?”

“Yeah. It’s…fuck. It’s three-thirty. Wha' d'you want?”

“Billy. Sorry, man. I’m sorry. Don’t mean to make you worried. It’s just…I don’t know what I’m doing, you know? I don’t know.”

“Dom, you’re drunk.”

“Yeah. ‘M drunk, Billy. But it’s no fun without you. You and I have fun, don’t we? But you’re not here. And I’m sitting in this godawful motel room watching shite movies and eating takeaway and I don’t know what I’m doing, Billy, I don’t know who the fuck I’m supposed to be or where I’m supposed to be it anymore. I used to have a place in the world, there used to be a spot for me, but I can’t find my spot anymore, Bill. I’m just fucking useless, I don’t have a job, I don’t have a place to live, I don’t have a car, who in their right minds would hire me for anything when my contact address is a dodgy motel out on the interstate, Bill? Who?”

“ _Dom_. Wheesht, Dom, and listen to me. Wheesht now. Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Billy. ‘M listening to you, Billy.”

“There’s a good lad. I need you to do something for me Dom. Will you do it?”

“Yeah. Anything for you, Bills. Anything.”

“Good. I need you to go to sleep.”

“But it’s only seven-thirty—“

“I don’t think that’s going to matter. Go to sleep, and when you recover from your hangover tomorrow, I want you to call me again. I want you to call me back when you’re sober and tell me these things, Dom. I need you to talk to me when you’re sober, even if you’re miserable as fuck, and not slur out self-pitying drivel born of cheap booze. Call me when you’re sober, Dom, and I’ll move heaven and fucking earth to do whatever I can for you. But I’m not playing this game, Dom, not again.”

“Billy—“

“No, Dom. I love you. You’re my best mate, and it’s bloody well killing me to watch you struggle like this because I love you more than you seem to believe. But I will not listen to you beg for help while you’re drunk and then tear me to shreds when you sober up and I try to give you that help.”

“Love you too, Bill. I do. Don’t mean to make you worry.”

“Yeah, you do, actually. And I _do_ worry, Dom, so I hope that helps somehow. Now go to sleep, and call me tomorrow, all right?”

“Okay. Okay, Bills. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, and you’ll answer, right? ‘Cos I never know how to tell you how much I miss you on that stupid phone of yours. You’ll answer, right?”

“I’ll answer, Dom, I swear. Go to sleep.”

“Okay. ‘Night, Bills.”

“Goodnight, Dom.”

 

 

“Hello?....Hello?”

“Billy.”

“I was hoping it was you.”

“It’s me.”

“How are you feeling, Dom?”

“Glad you’re using your inside voice.”

“I thought you might be. You drinking water?”

“Pints of it.”

“Good lad.”

“Don’t fucking patronize me, Billy.”

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, I’m sorry, Billy. You didn’t. Just touchy this morning, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“So…”

“So.”

“About the shite I spewed last night.”

“Yes, Dom?”

“Forget it, yeah?”

“Yeah. Sure. Right. Bye, Dom.”

“Billy—Billy, no—Billy? Billy? Please. No. _No_.”

 


End file.
